


Changes

by lary



Series: The Truth [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lary/pseuds/lary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco has so few choices. Or so he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changes

**Author's Note:**

> This story was supposed to be all light and slashy. It is still definitely the latter, but all this plot keeps popping up in my head. Well, what can you do. ;) 
> 
> And, I don't own them.

 

 

“And you're sure it's a glamour?”

 

“It's subtle, I know, but I've seen him reapplying it in the mornings.”

 

“Damn. What about-- did you find out what's going on with him and Potter?”

 

Draco's hand froze on the doorhandle. This explained why Pansy had been suspiciously quiet about Blaise during the last few days. She'd been pining for Zabini for ages and there had been no shutting her up about it. Only with Draco, of course – as a true Slytherin, she'd never allow the object of her affections know, not unless she was guaranteed a positive outcome. With Draco, Pansy was free to indulge. She held way too many of Draco's embarrassing secrets to worry about him betraying her confidences.

 

Draco grimaced. He should've known that the only reason she'd stop mentioning Blaise was if she and Blaise were talking about Draco.

 

He quickly disillusioned himself and cast a listening charm to better hear the low voices emanating from Pansy's room.

 

“Potter isn't happy with it, that much is clear, but he's hardly going to open up to me,” Blaise said.

 

Pansy scoffed. “I bet the Boy Who Lived is going to be as useless as he always is.”

 

“I'm not sure,” Blaise said. “He doesn't seem like the type to give up.” Draco shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. Potter had better stay away from him. Draco couldn't deal with him right now. No. Ever.

 

“Even if he doesn't, there's still the Malfoy pride to account for,” said Pansy.

 

“You mean stubbornness.”

 

“Same difference,” she drawled.

 

“He still won't tell you about the letter from Lucius?”

 

Draco scowled at Blaise's question. Sometimes he hated living in Slytherin dormitories. He didn't know how Blaise had found out the letter was from father, because usually all the post from home came from mother. Draco's fingers trailed the parchment he still had in his pocket. Anytime he'd tried to get rid of it, the weight in his stomach had stopped him. It wasn't about the words Lucius had written. Obviously, he wouldn't send anything compromising in writing, anyway. However, the real message was loud and clear: for whatever reason that Draco refused to contemplate, Narcissa had been unable to write to him.

 

And it was up to Draco to gain the Dark Lord's favour.

 

He didn't stay and listen to Pansy's answer. Normally, he would have relished the possibility to spy on the other Slytherins, but somehow it all seemed so meaningless. It made him want to scream. How the hell was he supposed to succeed in the impossible tasks the Dark Lord had demanded from him?

 

He didn't remove the disillusionment charm until he'd made it to the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Hidden Things. He stared at it blackly. He'd tried numerous spells from books in the restricted section, and nothing was working. The Cabinet would take items, but they got lost on the way.

 

A pity that the Dark Lord probably wouldn't go in there. That would solve everybody's problems.

 

**

 

Draco groaned, refusing to get up when Vince tried to make him. It had been almost three in the morning when Draco had fallen asleep. It didn't matter whether he was in the Room of Hidden Things or back in bed, he felt that weight rest on his shoulders. It was so futile, all of it.

 

He waited for the others, especially Blaise, to clear out before he summoned a mirror from his trunk and renewed the glamour before burrowing back under the covers. The blessed privacy didn't last for long.

 

“You're not ready for breakfast yet?” Pansy demanded when she saw him trying to hide under the blanket. Why couldn't she give up on it, like his other friends had?

 

“Clearly, you see Zabini more than enough without it.”

 

“Well, aren't you bitchy this morning. Again.” Pansy sat on Draco's bed, forfeiting breakfast in the great hall and going through his drawer for chocolates, instead. “You can't avoid him forever, you know.”

 

“Who?”

 

“The Minister of Magic,” she said. “Who the hell do you think?”

 

Draco rolled his eyes at Pansy's sad attempt at sarcasm. “As if anybody needs a reason to avoid Potter.” He summoned a fresh set of robes and changed, not even caring to stop Pansy from destroying the rest of his stash of chocolates. It was not like he wanted to even look at them. They were just reminders that he hadn't received any more from his mother for weeks now.

 

“You really think that's gonna fly?” Pansy said. “Need I remind you that I've known you since my parents were trying to come up with baby names that would sound good preceding Malfoy?”

 

Draco didn't deign to answer that. He'd discussed Potter with Pansy once, and look what that had got him – broken wows to stay away from the git.

 

He definitely didn't need any more of those.

 

**

 

What had he been thinking, roping Potter into doing the potions project with him? Who gave a shit about his grades or bloody Slughorn at this point?

 

He'd had other reasons, too, of course. But those didn't seem all that clever anymore, either. Unfortunately, it wasn't nearly as easy to brush off Potter as it had been last week.

 

“You know that you can talk to me, Draco.” Potter was crushing the Asphodel while simultaneously stirring the potion. He really had gotten good at potions during the last year. As if quidditch and Defence weren't enough. “I will help you if you tell me what is wrong.”

 

How pleasant it would be to beat that self-righteous expression off Potter's face. Literally. If only Snape was still teaching them Potions, he could make that fantasy come true without consequences. As it was, Draco entertained himself by imagining Potter under him, bruised and bloody and all in his mercy.

 

It would have been perfect if only the image wasn't making him horny.

 

**

 

It was past midnight and Draco was sneaking down towards the dungeons, after spending yet another evening uselessly researching and testing spells on the Vanishing Cabinet. He tensed when he heard a brush of fabric from behind him.

 

Of course.

 

“I've told you, repeatedly, to leave me the fuck alone,” he said threateningly.

 

“That's too bad.” Potter emerged from under his invisibility cloak, staring at Draco intently. “I've got no intention of doing so. I want you to tell me what's going on.”

 

“What should be going on?”

 

“You liked having sex as much as I did,” said Potter. “You liked me.”

 

Draco laughed derisively. “Hardly.”

 

“Oh. So you wouldn't want me to do this?” Potter took a few steps right into Draco's personal space. The resolute determination in his eyes stopped any verbal or non-verbal protests.

 

And then Draco felt Potter kissing him with fierce dedication. It was like a flame inside him had roared to life, he was consumed by Harry's mouth, by his tongue plunging in, greedy and impatient. Draco was only vaguely aware of his hands gripping Harry, because the other boy was giving as good as he was getting, this time. Draco licked the lips, biting Harry's tongue. The indignant noise Harry made caused shivers run through his body.

 

Why had he ever considered giving this up?

 

Their mouths and their hands searched each other aggressively. It was impossible to claim that either one was in charge. All Draco knew that at one point he had wall against his back, door at another, and it must have been Potter who manoeuvred them into a classroom because that was a desk.

 

What was constant was the weight of Harry's body pressing into his. And it didn't seem like the hardness ever stopped digging into his thigh. Not that he minded. It was unbelievably hot.

 

Draco needed flesh on flesh. He didn't waste time with articulating the thought, dragging clothes off Potter, who thankfully seemed to catch on without instructions. Together it took them next to no time to get naked, but still Draco could feel the need _burning_ his insides. Harry's body flush against his, the friction against his prick, it was feeding the flame but it wasn't enough.

 

He wanted Harry's cock. He wanted to be filled with it, he wanted the fucking Chosen One coming deep inside his arse with Draco's name on those red, delicious lips.

 

Potter went down with little resistance when Draco pushed him on his back, straddling him and conjuring lube with a spell. Even in the dim lighting, the emerald green eyes shone and stared wide in surprise as Draco pushed two fingers inside himself. He didn't take long in preparation, he could feel his hole hungry for Harry's cock.

 

“Oh Christ...” The strangled groan for the muggle deity was half incoherent when Draco lowered himself onto Harry's dick. It pressed in, slow and delicious. Salazar, he'd forgotten how amazing it felt to bottom. He sunk down fully before leaning in to claim Harry's mouth as he started to move.

 

Potter couldn't take it for long, having his cock inside another person for the first time. Draco felt it, Harry's body tensing as he got closer. His hands came up to hold onto Draco as he kissed him with abandon. And then Potter's hips drove into Draco's body harder before he was whimpering against his lips, spilling his release.

 

Fuck it was hot that he could reduce Potter into this mess. Draco could've done with a more thorough fuck, but still it only took him a few strokes on his cock before he was coming, too, gasping against Harry's mouth.

 

“I would never have thought you'd let me do that to you,” Potter said in an appropriately awed voice for somebody who'd just experienced shagging somebody for the first time.

 

“You're an idiot.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Draco wanted to take them back. Not that he ever had qualms about calling Potter an idiot, but he didn't especially want to remind Harry about the words that had spilled when he'd been on Veritaserum, about how he fantasised about Potter while fucking himself with his fingers. He felt his face heating up, but decided to distract both of them from that trail of thought by moving from talking to kissing.

 

That worked better than expected, for it didn't take long for either of them to make the journey back from languid and sated to horny and enthusiastic. The only problem was that when Draco's prick was coming back to life, unbelievably soon, his better judgement telling him to shut up was overruled by a growing desire to make Potter come undone, to drive him insane with lust.

 

“You're telling me you can't feel how much I want you, Harry?” Draco practically purred. He felt Harry's prick hardening further under his arse. It didn't take much angling to get it to the right place so that the glans was slipping back into him. “Can't you feel my hole wet and slick for you? It's just waiting for you to shove your fat cock back inside it.” Draco bore down and didn't stop moving, relishing the slow slide of Harry's prick in and out of his arse. “I want you to fill me up with your seed, Harry, so that I'm dripping it. I want you to pound into me so hard.”

 

Harry growled. “You're a fucking tease, Malfoy.” Without giving Draco time to react, Harry pushed him off and on his back, trapping him under himself and shoving his cock back in. Draco moaned in appreciation of Harry's weight on top of him.

 

“Move, Potter,” he urged, though really he didn't need to, because Harry wasted no time. He slammed into him, properly _fucking_ him now, hard and fast, and yes, _this_ was what Draco wanted. He let Potter know as much in the form of curses and moans, until he had been rendered breathless and all he could do was to hold onto Harry and try his best not to fall apart.

 

And then even that became a lost cause, when Harry bit on his shoulder. Draco came so hard he knew what it meant to be seeing stars.

 

When he started to recover, Potter was dead weight on top of him. Draco had the strangest urge to laugh.

 

“Up you get, Boy Wonder.” Potter grunted and this time Draco couldn't hold back the chuckle. “I know I'm amazing, but do try to move.”

 

“I'm not even going to argue with that,” Harry stated, rolling off to lean on his side and stare at Draco, who got up, telling himself he didn't miss the warmth of Harry's body.

 

Harry groused as he followed Draco's lead in getting dressed. He glanced at Draco as he drew on the jeans that could drive stronger men than Draco to distraction. “I still think we should talk about this.”

 

Draco scowled. “What are you, a girl?”

 

“What are you, twelve?” asked Potter, his eyes flashing angrily.

 

Draco raised a contemptuous eyebrow to communicate his self-evident opinion of Harry's own maturity, but he was feeling much too refreshed to stick around and argue.

 

 _I don't know why I was restraining myself from getting off with Potter_ , he thought as he smirked and waved bye to the black-haired youth. _It's just sensible to take advantage when it's offered. It doesn't have to change anything._

 

That night Draco slept like a baby. Apparently there was nothing like a good shag to get one's mind off evil overlords.

 

**

 

Unfortunately, the benefits of sex could only last so long before reality stepped in, and when his current reality was such a shitstorm, that period of peace was even shorter than it would have been otherwise.

 

Twenty-four hours later, not only was Draco severely stressed out about the stupid cabinet, he was also sexually frustrated. His right hand couldn't compete with Harry. And yes, he had tried. Several times.

 

Draco almost headed back towards the dungeons when he left the Room, but then he stopped to think for a moment.

 

It might not be simply the invisibility cloak helping Potter trail him, even with all of the dumb luck the Gryffindor possessed. Especially that one evening, when Draco had received father's letter – he hadn't thought of it at the time, but it was weird that Potter had found him. It wasn't as if anybody ever went to that loo, with Myrtle whinging about her pathetic life (or, well, death-- whatever).

 

The Boy Hero had always managed to find him when Draco didn't want him to. Who's to say he wouldn't now that Draco did want it? Besides, it wasn't like he would be able to sleep anyway even if he went back to his room right away.

 

Draco headed down a few floors towards the Prefects' Bathroom. He didn't care to attempt being quiet on the way – over the years, Draco had led Filch to so many wayward Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs that he had the caretaker eating out of his hand.

 

Draco left the bathroom door unlocked and set the taps on. He let the hot water pour in, but changed his mind about bubbles. No reason to decrease visibility for either of them, if Potter did show up.

 

Draco nearly smiled when he heard Potter's footsteps after twenty minutes of soaking. Disturbing, he supposed, that he recognised them. Then again, only a Gryffindor would cause that kind of noise if they wanted to be stealthy, and Potter was the Number One Rule Breaker of that house.

 

“Enjoying yourself, Potter?” Draco drawled lazily.

 

Harry was rather nicely flustered as he shook off the invisibility cloak, but Draco's pleasure diminished somewhat when he didn't follow it with the rest of his clothes. Potter didn't start undressing despite the less-than-subtle ogling, which Draco did his best to encourage by letting his fingers skim over his skin under the clear water. Instead, the Gryffindor stood by the bath with a determined expression.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

Draco had other ideas. He grabbed a hold of Harry's robes with both of his hands and pulled him forcefully into the bathtub. He smirked when Harry emerged, hair dripping water and spluttering in surprise.

 

“Malfoy! What the fuck is wrong with ymmph--”

 

Draco shut him up, using his tongue to great success. Potter, the delightful little hypocrite that he was, kissed back mindlessly. Using the leverage the wet robes provided, Draco twisted them around so that he had Harry trapped between himself ant the wall on the deepest side of the large bathtub. Draco happily took the opportunity to ravage his mouth, tasting and biting and sucking on Harry's lips until he was forced to break it up and breathe. “We don't need to talk, Potter,” he stated. “We need to fuck.”

 

He didn't want to think. He definitely didn't want to talk. What he wanted was a thick cock inside himself again.

 

Draco had never had sex in the Prefects Bathroom before (and why the hell not?) but he'd wanked there often enough that he found the oil easily. Hogwarts really was the best school ever, albeit the oil was probably there for massages or some such rot. At least officially – there was no way they didn't know what the prefects were more likely to use it for. Not that Draco wanted his mind to go there. Fortunately, he had better things to think about.

 

 _That should work_ , he thought, moving to the other side of the tub, where the water was shallower. Sitting down it would be to his neck, but when he was standing up, it was just high enough to reach to mid-thigh. _Perfect_.

 

He reached for the oil but then changed his mind, taking hold of Harry's wrist instead. “That tap third from the left,” he instructed, leaning over the edge of the bathtub. “Take a lot of it and then get over here.”

 

 _Hmm, obedient_ , Draco thought when he felt Harry's hands kneading his arse, warm and slick from the oil. Potter's breathing was heavy in his ears as he closed his eyes. When Harry pushed his fingers inside Draco, the sound of the oil was dirty, almost obscene. He didn't want to think about what he must look like, naked in the bathtub and bending over for Potter, but he felt himself flushing nonetheless.

 

Gradually, Draco lost any sense of time as he floated in the sensations caused by Harry handling his arse, spreading pleasure through him in a constant flow and with occasional jolts of fingers brushing against his prostate. Harry's body was so close, emanating heat despite the heavy, wet robes he still had on. Draco saw colours behind his eyelids, warm yellows and reds. He felt like he was flowing in the pleasure and arousal. Nothing else existed.

 

“Are you ready?” Harry's voice was low and rough enough to leave the flow uninterrupted. Draco nodded, and for a little while his arse was suffering from the loss of the fingers, but then Harry's dick pushed in, heavy and hot, making him moan. It stretched his hole, but he wanted that burn, wanted to be filled like nothing else.

 

He did notice Harry had gotten rid of the robes at some point, though he had no idea when. Harry was all over him, his arm circling Draco's narrow waist tightly, his heat flowing into his skin. And Harry's hands held onto him hard as he started thrusting in, pushing Draco's body against the ledge with his weight. _Fuck_ it felt magnificent.

 

Potter's hands moved on his skin, like he couldn't get enough, rubbing along his sides and touching his nipples in a way that made Draco arch and moan in pleasure.

 

“God,” Harry uttered, in a strangled voice, doing it again and again until Draco was a writhing mess under him. He hadn't even realised how close he was, but when he felt Harry's hand rubbing his cock, Draco almost lost his mind.

 

“Yes, yes, gods, fuck, yes,” he panted to the rhythm of Potter's thrusts, until the hand on his cock squeezed tighter, making Draco explode in red-hot bliss. Harry held Draco's body harder as he followed him over the edge, groaning as he rested his head against Draco's shoulder.

 

Draco would have happily slept right there on his feet, with Harry's body surrounding him, but unfortunately that wasn't an option, so he nudged the other boy to move. When he did, Draco got out of the bath efficiently. He spelled himself dry, checking his hair in the mirror and throwing his robes on.

 

Harry was towelling himself dry and pulling his still wet jeans on. “Don't go yet,” he said as Draco made for the door. “I want to talk to you. You're always leaving right away.”

 

Merlin, he was infuriating. Not even bloody amazing sex could shut him up. “What, Potter?” Draco snapped. “What is it that we need to talk about?”

 

“Oh, I don't know,” Potter said incredulously, swiftly taking a hold of Draco's arm. “How about this, you prick?” Harry moved Draco's sleeve up so that the Dark Mark was visible. “How about whatever you're doing for bloody Voldemort?”

 

Draco couldn't hide the flinch, then felt anger bubbling inside him. “Don't say that fucking name!”

 

“What, Voldemort?” Harry demanded. “Why the hell not? I'm not _scared_ of him!”

 

Potter was so insane that Draco had to laugh, though there was nothing funny about it. “Well, maybe you should be,” he stated, yanking his arm from Potter's hold.

 

“You don't have to do it, whatever it is.” There was a definite pleading note in Potter's voice, but Draco didn't want to hear it. He mustn't listen to Potter.

 

“You have no fucking idea what you're talking about,” Draco sneered. He made towards the door but Potter wouldn't let him out.

 

“Why the hell do you have to be such a stubborn git, Malfoy?” he demanded, voice trembling with anger now.

 

That was enough. Draco shoved Potter in the chest, hard, putting his weight into it. The other boy was thrown back, but the next moment he stepped up and punched Draco in the jaw. It hurt like motherfucker, but the physical pain was nothing to the rage that was boiling inside him.

 

He caught Potter's face with his elbow and kneed him in the gut. Next thing they were scrambling on the floor beating the life out of each other.

 

The adrenaline nearly blocked the pain, except when Potter got a blow in good and Draco's head hit the floor. He cursed, holding his head in both hands, eyeing Potter suspiciously. The other boy had pulled further away and was using his sleeve to wipe blood off his face. He was breathing hard, but the anger in his eyes had been replaced with something else. Something more intimidating.

 

Draco swallowed. He wanted to close his eyes against Harry's gaze, but he couldn't.

 

“I know you don't want to do it.” Potter said. Draco _hated_ the way Harry could make him freeze with that determined, sincere expression. “You don't have to. I can help you.”

 

How Draco wanted to believe him. How he hated him for making him hope. “You can't. Nobody can,” Draco said. He scrambled up, trying to regain his dignity as he made his way to the door.

 

Half of him was hoping Harry would stop him. That the fucking Saviour would live up to his reputation, for once, and get Draco out of the nightmare that had become of his life. In the next moment, he shoved the false hope away angrily. He did the same to Potter when he did try to stop him.

 

 _It's back to the sleepless nights, then,_ Draco though as he stalked towards the dungeons.

 

**

 

“Oh, shit. Son of a bitch!”

 

Draco, who had been wondering about the loud mutterings that had started in the great hall when the mail had arrived, twisted around to look at Pansy. She kept on cursing at the Daily Prophet for a few moments, before meeting his eyes fearfully and pushing the paper towards him.

 

Draco took in the article. His insides flooded with ice.

 

_THE MALFOY HEIR BENDS OVER FOR THE SAVIOUR_

_Son of Lucius Malfoy, a known Death Eater and a supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was caught in a compromising position with the Boy Who Lived in a Hogwarts bathroom late last night. Has the Junior Death Eater left his father's cause and joined the Light Side? The Chosen One, at least, seems to be welcoming the Pure-Blood Scion with passion. Read more from Rita Skeeter, second page._

 

The text was bad enough, but what made Draco paralysed with horror was the accompanying picture. His photograph self was getting shagged in the bath by an equally enthusiastic Potter, leaving little to the imagination. The photograph-Potter looked at the photograph-Draco with a besotted expression, dropping little kisses on his shoulder blades. The Draco in the picture was clearly flushed, lost in pleasure, his eyes closed. Loving it.

 

_Dear motherfucking Lord._

 

Once Draco regained his ability to speak, it was in expletives only. However, his tirade was cut short after mere minutes by his Head of House.

 

“Mr. Malfoy, come with me,” said Snape. His expression was unreadable. With rising dread, Draco followed the wizard out of the hall, which by that point was in a full-blown chaos.

 

Surprisingly, Snape wasn't heading towards his own office, but took the stairs upwards. Draco wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. On the one hand, he was definitely relieved not to be locked in the dungeons alone with the spy who had for years now managed to fool Dumbledore into thinking that he was doing his bidding. Snape could probably get rid of Draco and then worm his way out of the mess with the leaders of Dark and Light both. On the other hand, wherever Snape was taking him might well be even worse than being killed and turned into potions ingredients.

 

That sentiment strengthened when they got closer to their destination. Neither Salazar nor Merlin cared to answer his quickly sent prayers, and Draco knew better than to plead for Snape's mercy. Thus, he had no choice but to follow the older wizard onto the staircase that rose to the headmaster's office.

 

Draco entered, trailing behind Snape, but was stopped short as he took in the room.

 

“Mother.” Draco felt the tightly wound knot in his chest starting to unravel at seeing her. He walked past fidgeting Potter to kiss Narcissa's cheek. Habit, it seemed, was strong enough a force to overcome the bizarreness of the situation. He startled when he was close. Narcissa was wearing a glamour – Draco could spot it immediately, given that it was the same one he'd been using lately. His eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

 

“This is neither the time or the place, Draco.” Narcissa gave him a forbidding look. “Sit down.”

 

Draco sat, nails digging into his palms. Mother was right, of course. Malfoys never aired their dirty laundry in public. But he needed to know.

 

Somebody was going to pay.

 

“Headmaster, if we could please move this along,” Narcissa said pointedly.

 

“Of course, Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you all for coming so promptly. I believe Minerva shall be joining us shortly, once she is no longer required to keep order at breakfast-- ah, there you are.”

 

“Headmaster,” McGonagall greeted, giving a surprisingly sympathetic glance at Draco before fixing a stern one on Potter, who squirmed in his seat. Draco restrained his smirk. He might be the prime suspect for Potter's bruises, but he didn't have to confirm it. His own were covered by the glamour, and he knew nobody but mother should be able to spot it, except maybe Snape if he was familiar enough with Malfoy magic. He was unsure how close, exactly, the wizard was with his parents.

 

“Lemon Drops, anyone?”

 

“I must echo Narcissa's request that we move this along,” Snape said impatiently. Nobody reached for the candy.

 

“Ah, yes,” said Dumbledore. “I have asked you here to discuss our options.”

 

“And why, dare I ask, is our esteemed Gryffindor constituency represented in this meeting?” McGonagall bristled visibly at Snape's tone, and Potter seemed to be gearing up for an angry retort before the headmaster's quelling look stopped him in his tracks.

 

“I think it would be safest for Mr. Malfoy to take up temporary residence in Gryffindor tower.”

 

“Excuse me?” Draco uttered disbelievingly.

 

“Unacceptable,” Snape said. “Draco is in my house and I am perfectly capable of handling this mess that Potter has caused with his customarily poor judgement.”

 

“Severus, Draco, I must insist,” Dumbledore said decisively. “Minerva, if you would please go and take care of the practicalities.”

 

“Certainly, Albus,” McGonagall said wryly, before departing. Draco stared at the door helplessly as it closed behind her. How had the barmy old man just manoeuvred him into practically becoming a Gryffindor? And what was with the twinkling?

 

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Dumbledore started. “I do not believe it is safe for you to return home at the moment. I expect you have prepared for such an eventuality?”

 

“Yes. My husband and I hold several lovely holiday homes, which we do not get to use nearly as often as I would prefer. One that is abroad should be appropriate.”

 

“Ah. And shall your husband be joining you?”

 

“If his work allows him to,” said Narcissa, with a bit more frost in her voice. Draco resented the way they were talking about all of this as if it were _normal_. Though he supposed it was, in his screwed up life.

 

“Very well,” Dumbledore said. “Harry, you will be responsible for taking care that Mr. Malfoy settles in to his new rooms.”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Potter said. When Snape glared at him, he flushed and added, “sir.”

 

“Excellent,” the headmaster beamed. “Now, Mr. Malfoy, do you have any questions?”

 

Draco gaped. “What am I supposed to do now? With... everything?” He glanced quickly at mother, then back at Dumbledore.

 

“Ah, yes, I would request that you to refrain from further attempts on my life, if that would be acceptable?”

 

Mutely, Draco nodded. Apparently the old wizard knew everything, but that didn't change the fact that he was also apparently completely certifiable.

 

“Good then. Whether or not you wish to fully defect to the Light side is your decision. We would, of course, welcome your help. In any case, the Dark side has ceased to be an option, due to the latest developments,” the headmaster said. “Professor Snape will be available for any queries about changing sides.”

 

“But he hasn't--” Draco started, but was interrupted by Snape.

 

“Do us all a favour and use your head, Mr. Malfoy.”

 

Dumbledore continued, as if uninterrupted. “I must apologise for not warning you in time about the Daily Prophet. There simply was no time, this morning, with your Head of House extracting your mother from the Manor. And last night, Harry felt that you might have objections to the plan.”

 

Draco was silent for a moment, then said, “You are saying that Potter knew about the article?” His voice had dropped to its most intimidating Malfoy register, which Draco hardly ever managed to produce as well as father did. It was somewhat ironic that this would be the situation in which that finally happened.

 

“Draco--”

 

“Shut up, Potter.”

 

“Mr. Malfoy, behave yourself.” Snape snapped. As if he hadn't been itching to say the same thing. Draco ignored him and stared at the old, twinkling wizard across from him.

 

“That is, essentially, correct,” Dumbledore said.

 

Draco fixed Potter with a level stare. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

 

“I'm not gonna apologise for the fact that I didn't want you go back to serving Voldemort!” Harry said defensively.

 

“Ten points from Gryffindor for saying the Dark Lord's name,” Snape said smoothly.

 

“Now, Severus--”

 

“You do not wish to have this argument with me again right at this moment, Albus,” snapped Snape.

 

“Indeed,” Narcissa agreed, standing up. Draco rose, and to his surprise, mother drew him into an embrace. “Wear your Malfoy ring, always,” Narcissa whispered, nearly inaudibly. “It will take you to a safe place, if need be, regardless of what kind of wards you are surrounded by.”

 

She straightened, letting go of him. Then she turned towards Potter, who swallowed visibly. Draco found it appropriate that while the Boy Who Lived wasn't scared of the Dark Lord, he was still terrified by Narcissa Malfoy.

 

“My son is the most important thing to me in this world,” she stated. “You obviously care about him. I will trust you to act accordingly. You shall not put him in danger with your Gryffindor recklessness. If anything should happen to him, I will personally see that you pay for it.”

 

“I won't let anything happen to him. I promise.” Harry met her eyes with a determined stare. Draco felt something much too complex.

 

“Good.” Mother put her hand on Snape's arm, as she walked to the fireplace. Draco could just make out father's name, but didn't know what they said. And then Narcissa was gone in a flash of flames, clearly stating Diagon Alley as her destination. Snape stared at the headmaster, tapping the fireplace with his fingers.

 

“Boys, you are dismissed,” said Dumbledore. Draco shot up from the chair immediately, hastily exiting the office. He dashed down the moving staircase, but stopped suddenly at the foot of the stairs. Potter almost bumped into him.

 

He couldn't go to his room in Slytherin. His room no longer existed.

 

“Come on,” Potter said. He started towards the Gryffindor tower, and Draco followed. He was glad that the corridors were mostly empty, as other students were in classes. There were too many feelings inside him.

 

“You knew,” Draco said after a while. “I do hope you know what an arsehole you are, Potter.”

 

Harry stopped and twisted around, scowling. “Yeah. I'm such an arsehole that I'd rather have the papers writing about my sex life than you serving an insane fucking dictator. I'm such an arsehole to actually care about you, you git. I'm such an ar--”

 

Draco shut him up by pressing his lips against Harry's. The other boy made a surprised sound and then kissed back, drawing Draco closer. They kissed for a while, before Draco pulled away, looking into Harry's eyes.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Harry smiled. “You're welcome.”

 

When Harry started walking towards Gryffindor, Draco took his hand.

 

 

 


End file.
